DOLTON, Il. – They said this village didn't have a prayer. And then Leo came along. Plagued by the tempests of drugs, murder, corruption and other vices of biblical proportion for much of the past five decades, residents in this tiny burg just south of Chicago areseeing a ray of divine hopein their most famous native son,Pope Leo XIV. "This brings back hope. We went from hell-land to holy land because it was a rough several years for our community," Kiana Belcher, a village trustee, told USA TODAY. "Even in the grocery store you can tell it's a different atmosphere. Right now the light is shining bright on Dolton." Pope Leo was born in Chicago but grew up in this tiny hamlet in the 1960s. Back then, it was a modest working-class enclave, known for hard-working people who prospered, then struggled in the Rust Belt. Along with the new landscape came many changes. The community by the 2000s became a symbol of dysfunction. Former "Super Mayor"Tiffany Henyardran the city into over $3.5 million in debt. Meanwhile themurder ratehit about 10 times thenational average. The story of Dolton is not just about Pope Leo, but about how communities in America change - and not always for the better, due to poverty, crime and lack of jobs. "It got so bad I eventually had to move my mom out of here, what with the crime," former Dolton resident Mike Geagan told USA TODAY. Geagan, 66, also served as an altar boy at the St. Mary of the Assumption parish at the same time as Pope Leo. Robert Francis Prevost- Leo's name before the papacy - grew up in a modest ranch house on 141st Place, less than a mile from the Catholic parish where he learned his faith, served as an altar boy and went to school. Leo's parents bought the 1,200-square-foot brick house in 1949 on a$42 monthly mortgage. Dolton has changed tremendously since when the future pope lived thereplaying priest. Leo's late father, Louis, was an educator who led a local school district. His late mother, Mildred, worked as a librarian and was devoted to the family's now-shuttered parish, St. Mary of the Assumption. The area began changing drastically in the 1990s after Leo had moved away and when steel mills and other factories where village residents worked closed. Chicagoans today regard it as an example of the type of malfeasance the city manages to avoid. Residents now hope that Pope Leo's election will bring the village redemption, starting with his old haunts. "This is going to be a landmark," said Geagan of sites where Leo grew up. "People are going to come from all over." A flood of pilgrims and other curious visitors began arriving at the little brick house where Pope Leo grew up within hours of the announcement of his election. The house is located at 212 E. 141st Pl., about a mile south of Chicago. Visitors came so quickly that local officials put out signs warning strangers not to park in front of houses and neighbors complained of sudden traffic. Beatific looks from visitors outside the house left next-door neighbor Donna Sagna "flabbergasted." "A sense of peace," she said incredulously of what they said they felt. "This was a house that was not peaceful at all." Sagna, 50, moved in about eight years ago and said for the first several years Leo's house and others around it were hotbeds of drug dealing and violence. Today several on the block are apparently vacant. Dolton police did not respond to requests for information about the block but Trustee Belcher said the area was considered the rougher part of the village. "That side of town is a little more impoverished," she said. Problems on the block are a microcosm of the entire village. Dolton had a dozen murders in 2023, Cook County Medical Examiner's office. About 20,000 people live in the village, meaning the homicide rate is about 10 times thenational average. According to census data, the average income in the area is under $30,000. About a fifth of the population lives in poverty. Dolton was founded in 1892, according to theEncylopedia of Chicago, and for half a century it remained small with a population of just a few thousand people. Then it went the way of many Rust Belt America towns, experiencing a massive growth in population before hollowing out as nearby factories closed. Dolton's boom came around the same time Leo moved to the area when it nearly quadrupled in size. The village grew from 5,000 people in 1950 – the year after Leo's parents bought the family home – to 19,000 in 1960, according to census data. Chicago and Northwest Indiana formed an industrial hub then with plentiful factory jobs in everything from the steel mills behind the buildings making up the city's iconic skyline to car factories assembling the Fords cruising along Lake Shore Drive. Many factories beganclosing in the 1980sbut Dolton's outlook remained sunny. TheChicago Tribunereported in 1985 that Dolton's stability was "one of its charms" and no "major changes in the community" were expected. The average household income in 1980 was $27,000, or $107,000 in 2025 dollars, the newspaper reported. Dannie Lee, a Chicago native and retired railroad supervisor, moved to the village in 1989, a few years after the Tribune's sunny report. "It was cool for a couple years," said the 77-year-old. Then he began having brushes with neighbors that kept him "on his toes." Issues included drug dealing, attempted break-ins and other potentially volatile interactions. "I didn't know if we were going to have all-out war here or not," said Lee. "It was a rocky road from time to time." Dolton's problems, he said, began as plentiful factory jobs went away. "Most of those types of jobs are gone and some whole neighborhoods were dependent on those jobs," he said. "You can't emphasize that enough." Lee stayed despite bullet holes in his house because he felt his upbringing in Chicago public housing taught him to handle rough neighbors. He wasn't sure things were better elsewhere either as the impact of closing factories hit American small towns. "It's not just Dolton in that situation," said the retired Amtrak railroad supervisor. "Our entire region has similar problems. It's all over the country." Only Dolton has a blessing other towns don't, according to Lee: Pope Leo. "We're hopeful it'll bring some tourism. I admit I'm being greedy but we want Dolton to grow," Lee said. "I'm more optimistic now than I've ever been." People in Dolton are eager to think in terms of before Leo and after Leo. "To see he's from here where I lay my head every night, it makes me feel anything is possible," Sagna said. "God has a plan for all of us." Leo moved away for seminary school in the late '60s but his family held onto the house until 1996, according to Cook County property records. The inside of the house has changed significantly since Leo lived there. Current owner Paweł Radzik renovated the inside, according to photos of the inside shown to USA TODAY by neighbors. He tried selling the house for$219,000but took down the listing after Leo's election. Radzik plans to put the house up for auction on June 18, with a minimum price of $250,000, according to theChicago Tribune. The owner's real estate agentpreviously saidthat he hoped a new owner might turn it into a shrine or a restore it to how it was Leo lived there. Radzik did not respond to requests for comment. Almost everyone agrees they want it to become some sort of landmark. "The miracle on 141st Place," said Trustee Belcher. "It's an honor to have this type of attention. It's the beginning stages so we really don't know what will happen but we know we have a lot of people coming through to visit the town." Dolton officials and the owner of the house are still working out what's next for Pope Leo's old home. But neighbors haven't wasted a moment. Sagna plays Gregorian chant music to set the mood for visitors and often stands outside to chat. Another neighbor Marilyn Awong keeps candles lit on the steps leading up to the house. The eight little flames she said are a reminder that the Dolton resident was elected to the papacy on May 8. Awong, 71, also hopes that the building will become a protected landmark with programming that would provide a boost to her longtime community. In the meantime she's grateful that the pope has gotten her outside and chatting with neighbors. "A lot of times you don't even know who your next-door neighbor is," said Awong, a Trinidad and Tobago native who has lived in the area for over 50 years. "So I'm grateful that as a community we're finally coming together and talking with each other." This article originally appeared on USA TODAY:The blighted town where Pope Leo grew up is hoping for a resurrection
